


i don't have a broken heart

by one_more_page



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, an end of summer romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_page/pseuds/one_more_page
Summary: “I want to disappear. Just for a few weeks. My father and Morgana had this big fight and she packed a bag and went to Gwen’s and my father has been in a mood and I just -- I can’t be around him right now. I need togo.”Merlin knows what heshoulddo. He should ask where Arthur wants to go and then talk him out of it. Merlin should remind him that he’s leaving for uni in less than two weeks and maybe they can save their life changing adventure for next summer.Instead he says, “when do we leave?”--ORArthur wants to run away, Merlin tags along, and Merlin can't figure out why Arthur invited him. Until he does.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 481





	i don't have a broken heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbow_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_writer/gifts).



> rainbow_writer: I know this fic is not even remotely related to the fic ideas we discussed, but I hope you like it anyway :)

“Hello?”

The room is dark and Merlin blinks against the sting in his eyes, confused and not yet awake. He holds his phone away from his face to make sure he didn’t just answer his early morning alarm. It takes too many seconds to remember it’s summer. He hasn’t set an alarm for weeks.

“Are you awake?”

Merlin sits up and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Arthur, it’s -- like -- four in the morning.”

“You’re usually still up.” 

No, it’s _Arthur_ that’s usually still up but Merlin doesn’t yet have the energy for their usual song and dance. 

Merlin only grunts in response. Arthur doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and panic begins to prickle down his spine in a shivery caress.

“Arthur?”

“I want to disappear. Just for a few weeks.” Merlin is fully awake now as his eyes adjust to the dark room around him. Arthur is not a confession sort of guy, not in the light of day and certainly not on a midnight phone call. Arthur lets out a shaky breath and something in Merlin constricts at the idea that Arthur has been crying. “My father and Morgana had this big fight and she packed a bag and went to Gwen’s and my father has been in a mood and I just -- I can’t be around him right now. I need to _go_.”

Merlin knows what he _should_ do. He should ask where Arthur wants to go and then talk him out of it. Merlin should remind him that he’s leaving for uni in less than two weeks and maybe they can save their life changing adventure for next summer when it’s _Merlin’s_ turn to leave for uni. He should invite Arthur to come over and stay at his place. His mother wouldn’t mind. Morgana had certainly crashed at theirs more than a few times over the years.

Instead he says, “when do we leave?”

\--

The air feels lighter as they wind their way through the countryside. Maybe it’s because Merlin doesn’t know where they are going. He just packed enough clothes for a week and left a note for his mother. He’ll have to call whenever they get to where they are going but she’s understanding enough that she won’t be mad. Probably. He thinks his mother trusts Arthur and he does too, shockingly enough. And since Arthur is letting him tag along, he likes to think that Arthur trusts him as well.

It was 4:43 when Arthur pulled right in front of his house and Merlin stumbled to his car still half asleep but something bubbling in his stomach. A mix of anxiety and anticipation. Because Arthur isn’t spontaneous, not really. He always acts with forethought for anything that _matters_. He’s a notorious planner and Merlin mocks him for it constantly. Mocked him for it before they were really even friends back when Arthur was nothing more than Morgana’s older brother, the arrogant prat.

Maybe that’s what makes this adventure so exciting. The fact that if it took place just one year prior, Merlin wouldn’t have been invited at all.

Arthur is at the wheel, all the windows down, not quite smiling but not quite grimacing either. It’s sunny because of course it is, how else would the weather be when Arthur Pendragon decides to go on a spontaneous adventure? Even without a grin he seems to radiate _something_. Charisma, maybe. It’s hard to resist and Merlin’s eyes keep sneaking over to watch the sun catch on the golden strands of his hair. The only sign of his tension is the way his hands tap along the wheel. Merlin tries to catch the rhythm and figure out what song he’s playing.

His father made Arthur take piano lessons until he turned fifteen. Arthur puts on a big show of hating it and rolling his eyes when asked but Merlin knows he secretly loves it.

Merlin’s probably the only one that knows that secret, confessed late at night while they sat on the roof outside Merlin’s window, watching the stars. 

The realization makes his fingers tingle as if they might be going numb.

He stretches out his hand and looks at Arthur properly. “Are we going to make it before dark?”

Arthur only says, “we’ll be there in an hour,” in response.

There’s a million questions on the tip of Merlin’s tongue because underneath the excitement, he’s _worried_. This is not typical Arthur behavior. He wants to ask him about the fight and why it is that he is running away and why on earth did Arthur call _him_ , but he keeps them to himself. If experience is anything to go by, Arthur isn’t going to say anything before he’s ready. And Merlin has had enough practice waiting him out.

But there’s one question that can’t wait.

“Does your father know what we’re doing?”

Arthur’s drumming melody stops and he grips the wheel tighter. “It’s not as if he would care.”

Maybe not, but he’d definitely care if he thought his fancy car was stolen.

Arthur interrupts before he can ask anymore questions. “What have you been up to this summer?”

The question catches Merlin off guard. “What?”

There’s a flush on Arthur’s cheeks from the sun and the wind whipping through the windows. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Merlin looks out his own window as he realizes Arthur is right. He’s not sure why he didn’t notice sooner. Arthur had been practically glued to his side all year, as his mother frequently liked to joke. They did everything together right up until summer. Uther made Arthur intern at his company and Merlin started helping Gaius out at his pharmacy. Merlin hasn’t seen any of their friends in a long time.

“It’s been boring,” he settles on.

He gets a crooked grin in response. “Not anymore?”

Merlin shrugs in feigned nonchalance. “I still don’t know where we’re going, Pendragon.”

“Sounds pretty exciting to me.”

And Merlin laughs because he can’t help it and Arthur’s grin goes so smug as he presses down on the accelerator Merlin knows he’s going to have to do something to keep his ego in check later.

\--

The house is right on the sea. It looks like a postcard: a rocky beach and the sound of waves breaking against the shore and the fucking sun beaming down on them.

He can’t stop the grin that splits his face.

Arthur hits his shoulder as he passes him with his own bag. “This is what happens when you trust me.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and grabs his own bag from the back, slamming the door. “I always trust you, prat.”

He doesn’t mean for Arthur to hear him but the other boy turns around with a soft smile, a smile Merlin hasn’t seen before that makes the numb feeling in his fingers return with the added bonus of a thrumming in his veins. “I know you do, Merlin.”

Merlin shakes his head and follows Arthur into the house. He’s been too long without proper human contact and it’s making his brain go all funny.

\--

As it turns out, the house is more beautiful on the outside. It’s clearly been vacant for years but there are still signs of a once charming home. Shelves lined with books, an old looking record player in front of the window facing the sea, and hand-painted art adorning the walls all tell the story of the sort of person who must have lived here.

Merlin has a million more questions. He knows they haven’t technically committed “breaking and entering” as there was no breaking -- he’d seen Arthur use a key -- but they’ve definitely been _entering_.

Arthur’s expression goes stormy as it passes over the dust and cobwebs and faded sheets over furniture. 

It’s not the time for Merlin’s questions.

Merlin knocks their shoulders together. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do.”

Arthur hits him with another small smile. This one is more familiar than the one outside, the right corner tilted just so in gratitude since Arthur never properly learned how to say “thank you.” Merlin tries not to hold it against him.

The morning is spent cleaning. With Merlin bent over laughing as Arthur struggles with even the most basic tasks.

“You’ve really never _swept_?” he asks, incredulous, as he snatches the broom from Arthur’s hand.

Arthur pouts and Merlin grins wider. 

“Can you just --” a huff of annoyance and Merlin knows what will come next. It’s Arthur’s “I have to ask for help” dance. A dance that’s earned him everything from extra time on assignments to a string of dates. A hand run through his hair, teeth caught on the corner of his lip, eyes glancing up through his lashes. “Can you show me?” The please is written in his lifted brows.

Merlin caves just like everyone else.

\--

Even without hindsight Merlin knows today is one of those days he’s going to cherish for the rest of his life.

They spend it on the beach. Laughing and baking in the sun and even though Merlin can feel himself burning something fierce, he can’t bring himself to care.

Arthur’s never been shy about his body and he strips to his underclothes with only a quirked brow in challenge and Merlin hastily follows suit. He and Arthur chase each other down the beach, stumbling along the rocky shore and take turns throwing each other into the waves.

Arthur is glowing, radiating sunlight and warmth. When Merlin surprises him with a wave splashed in his direction he throws his head back and laughs, loud and carefree and _right_. It seems to fill a part of Merlin’s chest he hadn’t realized was hollow. He looks at Merlin with eyes as blue as the fucking sky above them and Merlin’s chest nearly explodes from how full it feels.

Maybe Arthur is going to be just fine. 

\--

The thing Merlin quickly realizes about the house is that there’s just the one bedroom and the one bed.

He tries to delicately bring it up as they eat hastily purchased rations from the nearby town but Arthur just shrugs. “We’ll share. It’s just like camping.”

It’s _not_ like camping. Because in camping there isn’t a _choice_. You have to sleep pressed up close together in a tent. In this house Merlin could sleep on the floor or in a chair or out in the fucking car but Arthur is so casual about the whole thing he finds he doesn’t have an argument.

The bed is narrow, which means that Merlin can feel the heat radiating off Arthur all down his left arm. The heat makes him feel a little dizzy and they're both still wet from the showers they took just before bed so the whole room smells like Arthur’s soap because Merlin’s shampoo was not one of the items he thought to grab this morning. The smell is not helping with the dizziness. He sort of wants to get up to get a drink of water but he doesn’t want to wake Arthur.

Merlin realizes he needn’t have worried about waking Arthur when the other boy says, “it’s my mother’s house.” Merlin turns his head to study Arthur’s profile. There’s no coverings on the window so the room is perfectly illuminated. Merlin can make out the shape of Arthur’s nose, his furrowed brow, the terse line of his mouth. “My grandparents left it to my father when they passed. I always thought he’d have someone looking after the place but….”

He trails off and Merlin wonders if that’s the purpose of the trip, to feel closer to his mother. He doesn’t have the words to make this better.

“It’s a lovely house.” 

It’s a stupid thing to say, something _his mother_ would say when they visit a neighbor for the first time and he resists the urge to smack himself.

Arthur snorts, an ugly unattractive noise that has Merlin grinning. Arthur lolls his head over to look at him. “We killed three _dozen_ spiders this morning.”

“I’m sure the spiders find the house charming.”

Arthur lets out a bark of a laugh and Merlin’s grin gets painfully wide. He used to _hate_ Arthur’s laugh, back before they were friends. He’d hear Arthur and his band of admirers stomping through Morgana’s house while Arthur let loose a loud cackle. He often compared it to a donkey braying which sent Morgana and Gwen into peals of laughter. 

He’s not sure when that changed. Because now it seems like a smiling, laughing Arthur just might solve all his problems.

The two of them settle into the quiet of the night, staring at one another. 

It should feel weird, to stare at your friend who you sort of hated just a year ago in the moonlight, but it doesn’t feel weird. Nothing with Arthur ever feels weird.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Merlin.”

Merlin gives him a small smile. “I’m glad you invited me.”

Arthur’s face goes a little condescending as he raises his eyebrows and says, “ _you_ invited yourself.”

Merlin lifts one shoulder. “You didn’t say ‘no.’”

There’s that new smile, small and secret like Arthur’s trying to fight it before it gets too big. “I suppose I didn’t. Good night, Merlin.”

“Night, Arthur.”

The numb tingling has returned, crawling up his arms and into the pit of his stomach.

Merlin doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

\--

They settle into a routine. Arthur is always up before him. He’s always been an early riser and Merlin prefers to sleep until noon. 

But sometimes Merlin will be loosely conscious in the gray of the early morning, just as the sun starts to rise. And there’s a weight pressed right against his back and arms around his torso and Arthur’s breath hot on his neck. And he _should_ pull away, he knows that, but in those early morning hours he can’t remember the reason why, so he scoots back and Arthur presses forward and then there’s no space between them at all.

They don’t talk about that once Merlin is up for the day. Merlin half convinces himself it's a dream.

When he does get up he finds Arthur whistling in the kitchen and experimenting with a recipe book he found despite the fact that he has never attempted to cook a day in his life and the house is severely lacking any proper equipment and ingredients. Merlin will address the situation with alarm and end up taking over halfway through Arthur’s meal. And Arthur will sit on a stool with an infuriating smug grin like this was his plan all along, to do such a terrible job that Merlin has no choice but to fix his mess.

The days are spent on the beach with packed lunches and Arthur gives Merlin lectures about skin cancer so he applies copious amounts of suntan lotion every few hours.

Sometimes they’ll walk to the town, small and nearly vacant. When they get ice cream Arthur puts on a big show about paying and Merlin rolls his eyes and takes the scoops from the girl behind the counter.

“Quite the gentlemen you’ve got,” she says with a smirk.

Merlin blushes down his chest and before he can correct her Arthur has pulled him back to the street, helping himself to a huge lick of both cones. Merlin’s cheeks burn so hot he’s sure they must give off steam.

They prepare dinner together at night because Arthur has got it in his head that he needs to learn how to cook. Merlin is promoted to head chef against his will but Arthur is always eager to assist. Arthur listens patiently to Merlin’s instructions, watching his hands as he dices vegetables with an intensity that has heat working its way up Merlin’s collar.

“How do you know all this?” Arthur asks.

Merlin shrugs. “I always went to Gaius’ after school. I’d help him with dinner and we’d eat there.” To be honest, he hadn’t realized how much he knew.

Arthur finds a cupboard of board games and they rotate through them in the evenings. Arthur is obnoxiously competitive and winning brings out too much of his arrogance so Merlin starts cheating, keeping track of Arthur’s guesses and his own when they play Battleship, moving his ships so Arthur can’t find them.

“What are you doing?”

Merlin looks up, his ship still above the board. He keeps his eyes wide and innocent. “Nothing.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “You’re cheating.”

Merlin doesn’t want to smile but he can’t help it. “Sorry?”

Arthur lunges around the table and tackles Merlin to the ground, hands tickling his sides until tears stream down his cheeks and he’s wheezing for air.

All at once Arthur stops and he’s looking down at Merlin with an expression he can’t read. They’re close on the floor of this house by the sea and Merlin feels something like anticipation curl in his gut.

Then Arthur hits his shoulder and rolls away. 

Merlin tries not to think about it.

When they aren’t paying board games Arthur is working his way through the impressive collection of books on the shelves. Merlin sits in front of the record player and plays an old fashioned sort of DJ. Sometimes, if he picks a familiar enough tune, Arthur’s fingers will absent mindedly play the melody while he reads. Merlin spends those evenings lying on the floor, listening to music, and watching Arthur.

At night they sleep next to one another, the wind from the open window bringing the brine of the sea into the room. Merlin knows Arthur has problems sleeping. He remembers spending the night at Morgana’s a few years back and waking to fetch a glass of water. He found Arthur sitting on their kitchen floor with his head hung between his knees. This was before they were friends. But Merlin got two glasses and sat beside Arthur sliding one across the floor toward him.

Arthur had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?”

The question irritated Merlin. Because even though Arthur might not have known it, Merlin was usually nice to everyone. It was just _Arthur_ he tended to poke and prod and push until the two of them were practically snarling at one another.

But he ignored his irritation. “Because it seems like you could use it.”

Arthur hadn’t said anything but he had taken the glass. He remembers sitting next to Arthur on the floor is silence, their shoulders close and almost touching. The arm closest to Arthur felt a bit electric, the hairs all stood on end.

Here in this cottage by the sea Arthur always falls asleep right away, snoring loud enough to wake the dead but Merlin never teases him about it. It means Arthur is actually getting some rest. And Merlin wakes sweaty in the heat of the not-quite-morning with Arthur plastered to his back.

It’s a perfect sort of holiday.

\--

Before he knows what has happened, five days have gone by.

“When are you coming home?” His mother asks. She’s been fantastically patient as far as Merlin is concerned. He knows most parents would not appreciate a hastily scribbled note left in the wee hours of the morning. As long as he calls everyday she doesn’t seem too irritated but he worries she’s nearing her limit.

“I’m not sure,” he says honestly, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Arthur can’t hear. “But Arthur needs me.”

That much he knows is true. Even if he doesn’t know _why_ they’ve gone on this little excursion he knows Arthur picked him for a reason. Even if it's just so he doesn’t have to be alone, Merlin is happy to be that person.

“I know he needs you, Merlin,” his mother says on a sign. “More than you probably realize.” He doesn’t know what to say to that.

When he gets back inside Arthur is giving him a look he can’t read.

“You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”

Merlin shakes his head. “But I do,” he says. “I do want to.”

And then there’s that smile, the one that Merlin thinks he might be dreaming about at night. That makes his heart pick up in rhythm and his limbs tingle and his knees feel a little like jello.

It’s a smile he’s going to dearly miss when Arthur leaves for school in a week.

\--

It rains the next day. Harsh, violent, beating against the tiny house by the sea.

Merlin finds Scrabble and after an afternoon badgering Arthur, he finally agrees to play.

Merlin knows Arthur is putting on a show, pretending he doesn’t _love_ this. His face is furrowed in concentration as he stares at his tiles, lip caught between his teeth as he plots his next move. Merlin assumes if Arthur had brought anyone but him there probably wouldn’t be so much board game playing. Arthur is the kind of person that got invited to the parties thrown when parents were out of town and their children would rifle through their liquor cabinets in an attempt to be rebellious. Merlin is the kind of person who spent his weekends playing video games alone in his room. 

Sometime over the past year Arthur started joining him for all those solitary weekends. It seems as though they weren’t so solitary after all.

It suddenly hits him that Arthur spent every Saturday with him for months until they each started their summer jobs. Merlin has no idea how he didn’t notice Arthur’s absence.

But he did, didn’t he? That achy sort of loneliness he got just before he went to sleep. The feeling that there was a hollow cavity in his chest that echoed with its emptiness. He’d slide open his messages and debate texting Arthur but Arthur hadn’t text him and Arthur always texts first. If Arthur wants to see someone, he’d move mountains to make it happen. He just assumed Arthur was too busy for him.

Merlin knew Arthur was going to be better at the game than he was but this is getting ridiculous.

“How the fuck did you get _unequivocally_?”

Arthur’s eyes go wide the way they do when he’s caught doing something he’s not supposed to. Merlin feels thoroughly affronted.

“You’re cheating! You put down too many letters!”

Arthur grins and reveals a second Scrabble box beneath the table. Arthur must have been planning this for _days_ , waiting for Merlin to ask to play, acting as if it was a huge chore, and then demolishing Merlin in less than five turns.

“You’re ridiculous,” Merlin tells him. It doesn’t quite capture Arthur, not really, but it’s the closest thing he is willing to say out loud. “Who owns two Scrabble games?”

Arthur shrugs. “My mother, I guess.” Arthur gestures to the bookshelves around them. “She liked reading.”

“Just like you,” Merlin says. He never realized Arthur enjoyed reading so much but he’s seen him devour more books in the past few days than Merlin’s read for fun since he was ten years old.

Arthur smiles, small and pleased and Merlin thrums with warmth at the expression.

\--

“Have you ever been in love?”

Arthur’s question catches him off guard.

Scrabble has been abandoned after the two of them started making up more and more ridiculous words. They are lying in front of the record player, listening to the piano drift through the house and rain beat against the window. Merlin feels so light he might drift off the floor. He’s happier than he’s been in a very long time. He never wants to leave.

Arthur’s side is pressed right against his and it should be weird because they aren’t about to go to sleep but it’s not. It feels _right_. It feels like maybe Merlin should be doing this all the time. Maybe Merlin should make sure they never stop.

The feeling of Arthur against him is distracting and Merlin has to play back the question twice before he understands it. He scoffs. “It may have escaped your notice but I haven’t ever dated anyone. Not as though I had lots of opportunities to fall in love.”

Arthur is quiet so Merlin shuts his eyes and waits him out. Arthur doesn’t do idle chatter, not like Merlin. If he brought up a topic, there is a reason for it.

“I don’t think dating is the only way to fall in love. I’ve never been in love with any of the people I’ve dated.”

Merlin scrunches one eye open and looks at Arthur. “Not even Gwen?” Arthur shakes his head, drumming his fingers against his chest.

Arthur dating Gwen was a rather tense time for Merlin because he had to deal with Morgana who called both Gwen and Arthur traitors depending on her mood. By the time Merlin convinced her that the two of them were probably not dating each other just to spite Morgana, the relationship seemed to run its course. And then Morgana apologized to Gwen and Gwen started dating _Morgana_ and Merlin was a bit of a third wheel. Until one day Merlin was walking home from school, Arthur pulled up beside him and offered him a ride home.

By the time Merlin got out of his car they were friends. It was easy and effortless and Merlin has no idea why they spent so much time pretending to hate each other.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Merlin feels his cheeks heat. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

Arthur’s eyes are wide like maybe he didn’t mean to say that. “Sorry, I --”

Merlin needs to stop Arthur from talking but he can’t quite get his words together. He can’t handle talking about kissing while he’s feeling loose and happy and has the searing heat of Arthur pressed right against his side. Because it’s only a hop, a skip, and a jump before his mind starts helpfully providing images of what it would be like to kiss the boy right next to him. And he does _not_ want to do that. 

Right?

He needs to change the subject.

“Why are we here, Arthur?”

Merlin’s been really good about not asking but he _has_ to ask. And he’d rather deal with angry Arthur than an Arthur that wants to talk about _kissing_.

“You can go.”

Merlin resists the urge to argue. To point out that he _really_ can’t as they are staying in a small village by the sea and Merlin’s fairly certain the public transportation system leaves something to be desired.

So he puts his foot down. He pushes, the way Arthur always pushes him. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Arthur sighs and looks over at him. He’s so close Merlin can see that he’s got a new dusting of freckles across his nose from the days they’ve been spending in the sun. All Merlin has to show for it is a peely layer of skin on his back.

“I don’t want to leave,” Arthur says.

Merlin tilts his head in confusion and it brings him even closer to Arthur. He hears Arthur swallow. “We don’t have to leave. We can stay for a few more days.”

Arthur is now completely on his side, facing Merlin. His forehead presses against Merlin’s as Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave for school,” he whispers it. Arthur always whispers his most secret confessions.

That really throws Merlin for a loop. He’s never known Arthur to be afraid of anything.

“It’s normal to be scared.” He doesn’t actually know if that’s true but _he’s_ definitely going to be scared when it is his turn next year.

“I’m not scared, I’m….” he trails off and rolls onto his back. Merlin misses his proximity and scoots closer before he can stop himself, until his head is on Arthur’s shoulder. Before he can ask if it’s okay, Arthur’s arm has snaked around him, keeping him close. His entire body starts buzzing where it presses against Arthur. “It’s like -- it feels like this huge _goodbye_. To all the people I care about and the life I have. And I like my life, for the most part. My father certainly leaves something to be desired but I like Morgana most of the time. And I like my friends. And I like --“ he stops talking and shakes his head. 

Merlin doesn’t know what to say.

Because it _is_ a goodbye. That’s the point, right? You say goodbye to go after new adventures. It seems like that might be how life works.

Apparently he said all that out loud because Arthur says, “I feel like I’ve missed out on so much _here_.” The arm around Merlin squeezes him tighter. He’s not sure if that was on purpose.

“But you’ll have new opportunities. To study Environmental Sciences and save the world.” He’s heard Arthur talk at length about his plan. He could probably recite long sections right back at him if he thought that’s what Arthur needed right now.

Arthur lets out a long breath. “But what if there’s an…. _opportunity_ that won’t be there?”

Merlin wishes Arthur wasn’t being so cryptic. He gets the sense that Arthur is trying to tell him something, something _important_ , but he’s not quite with it enough to pick up what he’s saying. And Arthur isn’t helping matters. He’s running his hand up and down Merlin’s back and it’s all he can think about, the feeling of Arthur’s hands on him. 

That he likes Arthur’s hands on him.

He shakes his head before his thoughts head down a dangerous path. “I don’t know, Arthur.”

“Me either.”

\--

They stay on the floor pressed together late into the night.

Not talking.

Just existing.

Watching through the window as the moon makes its way across the sky.

That place in Merlin’s chest that stores his loneliness gives a weak pulse to remind him it is waiting. It will be back the minute they have to leave. The minute Arthur isn’t around to keep it full.

But then Arthur’s hand runs down his back again and the thought scatters like ashes in the wind.

\--

Merlin wakes late the next morning and moans against the horrible sunny room. It must be well past noon. He downs a glass of water he doesn’t remember putting on the nightstand.

After scrubbing his teeth until his gums bleed, he cracks the door open to find Arthur on the couch, book on his lap.

“You could have gone to the beach. You didn’t need to stay.”

Arthur points to the kitchen without looking up. “It wouldn’t have been as fun without you. Eat some toast.”

Merlin finds recently toasted bread on the counter and realizes Arthur must have heated it up when he was in the bathroom. The numbness is back in his fingers and his mouth goes a little dry. He chokes down the bread before he can think too much about it.

He throws himself down next to Arthur. “Why aren’t _you_ tired?” he moans.

“Because I’ve had years of practice.”

“Oh.” There’s an ache in his chest at Arthur’s words. He doesn’t know how to convey he wishes he could make it better, take some of those worries that keep Arthur up all night and face them himself, _share_ them. “I don’t think I like Scrabble.”

Arthur smirks at him and Merlin can’t stop staring at his mouth. He’s flooded with errant thoughts he had the night before of what it might be like to kiss _Arthur_. Merlin shuts his eyes before he starts feeling numb or electric or like jello but it’s too late to stop his thudding heart.

“Go back to bed.”

Merlin sticks out his bottom lip and hears Arthur snort. “No.”

“So stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He feels Arthur’s hand on his arm and his eyes snap open. Arthur is smiling the evil smile that makes Merlin become a total idiot, his eyes a little crinkled and his lips _right there_.

Arthur tugs on his arm. “Come on -- just --”

Merlin complies, because he thinks he’d agree to anything when Arthur wears that smile. He slides down until his head is on Arthur’s thigh, his body stretched out. Arthur runs a hand through his hair and Merlin bites his cheeks so he doesn’t make an embarrassing noise.

Apparently he still likes Arthur’s hands on him.

“Sleep,” Arthur says, his eyes aren’t on Merlin, they’re back on his book.

“No.”

He’s awarded with an annoyed glare that has him grinning. Arthur rolls his eyes. “Merlin --”

“I really don’t think I can. Can you just -- can you read outloud? And I’ll listen? Please?”

Arthur swallows, loud in the quiet room but then he starts reading softly. And Merlin shuts his eyes, letting Arthur’s voice wash over him like waves against the shore.

It’s a few more pages and Arthur’s hand is carding through his hair again, scratching his scalp, and Merlin’s whole body feels like it might melt.

\--

He’s taken to staring. 

At Arthur’s hair when they are on the beach, the way the sun kisses the golden strands lighting it up until it glows. He studies the way it looks when it’s windswept and tousled in a look so effortless it belongs on the cover of magazines. The way it looks in the morning, messy from sleep and Arthur himself so soft that Merlin’s heart seems to give a squeeze so tight he feels it all the way to his bones.

Arthur’s fingers are mesmerizing, when he brushes back his hair with annoyance, when he’s turning the pages of his books, when he’s tapping them against the arm of the chair playing a tune Merlin would give quite literally anything to hear.

The exposed and golden expanse of Arthur’s skin during the day, freckled just a bit like his nose, captures every ounce of his attention. And Arthur takes advantage of the distraction to pull him under the water a dozen times. His skin smells like sweat and salt and the sea and it’s dangerous for Merlin to be so close to it.

Merlin can’t stop staring at Arthur’s mouth. The way he laughs big and loud when Merlin trips over his own feet, still blurry eyed with sleep in the morning. The way Arthur’s lips purse in thought and pucker while they play cards and Merlin loses every round. Most hypnotizing at night before bed, when they fall asleep together and Arthur gives him that small smile that makes Merlin want to do anything to keep it there.

He stares and he stares and he stares because he is so incredibly scared to do anything else. It took his whole life to get Arthur as a friend. He can’t afford to lose it right before Arthur leaves him for bigger and better things.

\--

They’ve been at the house nine days when Arthur gets a phone call from his father.

Merlin sees the phone on the coffee table light up with Uther Pendragon’s name and looks at Arthur with wide eyes.

He takes the call outside and when he comes back his expression is stormy, angry in a way it hasn’t been for days. Merlin sort of wants to yell at Uther Pendragon for what he’s capable of doing to his son with just a few words.

“We’ll have to leave tomorrow.”

Merlin swallows down the disappointment, the memory of the hollow feeling starts a familiar echo. He doesn’t want to leave. He likes this place where Arthur is a little softer and it feels like they are the only two people in the world. And he still doesn’t know why they are here, if Arthur even achieved what he was after.

Arthur is studying him with intense eyes, sharp and piercing and Merlin assumes an answer is required of him. 

“Okay.”

He doesn’t know why but it’s not what Arthur wants to hear. Arthur’s face gets even more closed off. “I’m going for a swim.” Merlin makes to follow when Arthur says, “alone,” and Merlin sits back down with a thud.

\--

Arthur’s answers are short and stiff and it’s almost like they’ve gone back an entire year, regressed to that time between being enemies and being friends. Uncomfortable acquaintances.

It hurts and the hollowness starts to spread and Merlin gets so scared he can’t see straight.

All of Merlin’s frustration boils over all at once.

“I don’t know why you are taking your bad mood out on me,” he snaps. “ _I’m_ not the one making you leave. In fact, I’m the one that came with _you_ when you ran away.”

Arthur looks just as angry and Merlin feels thrown back in time, to a replay of one of the thousands of arguments they used to share. “I’m not running away!”

“Then what is this?” Merlin yells, gesturing wide, done with Arthur’s secretiveness. “Huh, Arthur? Why are we _really_ here? What are you trying to do?”

Arthur stares at Merlin furious for approximately twenty seconds. Then he deflates and looks so sad Merlin’s heart gives a painful ache in his chest.

Arthur shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m not trying to do anything.”

And then he leaves.

\--

It takes Merlin two hours to find him. For someone who claims they don’t run away Arthur sure excels in the practice.

He walks through town, down the beach, and eventually gives up when the sun starts setting. He finds him lying on the fucking roof.

“Drama Queen,” Merlin mumbles as he climbs the trellis.

Merlin sits beside him, close but not close enough to touch. He can’t help but feel like those days are gone, the carefree easy touches between them. The disappointment is a punch to the gut. He wishes he could just take back the last few hours.

Arthur doesn’t say anything.

“Why did you give me a ride home all those weeks ago?”

Arthur looks over at him. The sun really does love him, lights him up from the inside until he glows. He’s beautiful. Merlin has certainly done enough staring to recognize that.

Arthur shrugs. “Because I wanted to. And you looked like you needed it.”

Merlin props himself back on his elbows as he looks down at Arthur. “And now we’re friends?”

Arthur gives him a _don’t be an idiot_ look. “Of course.”

“So talk to me,” Merlin’s not above begging. And he knows Arthur has a weak spot when he makes his eyes go all wide. “What are you running from Arthur? If you don’t talk about it, it’s still going to be waiting for you when you get back.”

Arthur lets out a hollow sound that might be a laugh. “I can guarantee it’s not waiting for me. And I already told you, I’m not running from anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly _running_ ,” Merlin argues.

“Can you -- can you drop it? It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_. It’s important to you so it does matter. I felt like you went on this trip to settle this piece of you and I haven’t been helpful and --”

“Merlin,” the _don’t be an idiot_ look is back in full force, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then _tell_ me.” Merlin can’t help but feel like until they get to the bottom of this, there will be chasm between them and Arthur’s about to leave and he feels like he might throw up at the idea of he and Arthur saying goodbye like this. “If you aren’t running away then --”

“I just wanted a taste to see what it was like if my life was different or I was someone else!” Arthur’s eyes are wide and panicked and Merlin clenches his fist tight so he doesn’t reach for him. “I just wanted to know what it would be like to run away with --” Arthur stops and blushes, returning his gaze to the sun.

Merlin thinks about Arthur’s new smile, the one it seems like was made just for him and the way he wakes up with Arthur pressed all up against his back and Arthur making him toast and running his fingers through his hair and his question -- _have you ever been in love?_ \-- and Merlin feels like he might be an idiot.

Merlin’s pulse thuds loud in his ears. He swallows down his fear. “With me?”

Arthur’s still not looking at him and his cheeks look a little red. “It was stupid. And I should have just told you -- and you don’t -- which is _fine_. So let’s just drop it.”

There’s a manic smile stretching Merlin’s cheeks in a rather painful way. It seems as though Arthur is a bit of an idiot too. 

“Arthur?” He asks, soft and sort of hesitant. “Can I kiss you?”

Arthur’s head whips in Merlin’s direction, mouth agape. “That’s not _funny_.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious in my life.” Merlin says solemnly, scooting closer until he’s leaning over Arthur and Arthur is staring up at him with wide eyes. “Can I kiss you?” Merlin asks again, praying Arthur will say yes because Merlin might _die_ if he doesn’t. “If you --”

Arthur surges up to meet him and Merlin swears to _god_ it feels like he’s hit by lightning. His entire body buzzes from head to toe. He might be melting as Arthur’s lips move against his, they’re chapped and rough and everything Merlin has ever wanted. It’s a slow slide that leaves him dizzy over and over again.

“You’re so stupid,” Merlin says between kissing Arthur, and that thought makes him burn even hotter.

“Stupid?” Arthur gasps, sounding indignant and furious but breathless and Merlin blood turns to fire knowing that _he_ did that to Arthur.

Merlin pulls back and shakes his head. “You should have kissed me when you showed up at my house at four in the morning then we could have spent the whole trip doing this.”

Arthur grabs his hair and pulls him back down, making up for lost time.

\--

They return inside when Merlin attempts to straddle Arthur’s waist and the two of them nearly fall off the roof.

\--

Merlin wakes in the quiet gray of the not-quite morning with Arthur plastered to his back and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. There’s an arm around his chest, the palm against his heart. 

The difference this morning is they fell asleep this way, tangled together after trading lazy kisses and not-so lazy kisses until Merlin’s mouth felt the same numbness he keeps getting in his limbs and his heart was full enough to burst.

He has to bite back a grin at the memory. He grabs Arthur’s hand, presses a kiss against his knuckle, pulls him tighter around his body, and goes back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Title comes from the song "I Don't Have a Broken Heart" by Trixie Mattel. Feel free to catch me on [tumblr](https://1-more-page.tumblr.com).
> 
> Comments and kudos are the best :)


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